


an art of forgetting (remembering)

by AeSiren



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Barebacking, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Character Study, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Episode: s01e06 China’s On! The Grand Prix Series Opening Event!!! The Cup of China Short Program, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Off screen, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Pining, Pining Katsuki Yuuri, Possessive Katsuki Yuuri, Power Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Summer of mutual pining, Teasing, Victor is just delighted to be on the ride of Yuuri realizing his appeal tbh, Yuuri is bossy in bed, blink and you’ll miss it:, how many references can victor make to the banquet night and his resulting feelings: the same essay, how often can i get away with saying yuuri lusts after victor: an essay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 09:46:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17281727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeSiren/pseuds/AeSiren
Summary: Every time Yuuri has gone through the Eros program, however, he’s still thinking. Eros isn’t him, it’s a character he puts on with the rink as his stage. And Victor can tell.~Sleep, he tells himself. Sleep, and then he can worry in the morning. Sleep, and he and Victor can talk.Sleep evades him.~Or: Yuuri chasing forgetting thoughts in order to win, and Victor chasing making Yuuri acknowledge and remember their love story.





	an art of forgetting (remembering)

**Author's Note:**

> For Raina, to whom I owe my life and this fic’s posting, the best beta and an even better friend. The Lilia to my Yurio and the Phichit to my Yuuri. Thank you.
> 
> A fic for a Secret Santa collection in my favorite group that allowed me to indulge in some character meta. Prompt:  
> “Yuuri either topping, dominating, or power bottoming, set some point in canon but “off screen”. Maybe Yuuri’s really coming into his Eros as himself (rather than someone he isn’t), maybe Victor tries to make a move and Yuuri surprises him (and doesn’t Victor love being surprised), or maybe it’s Mari’s birthday and Yuuri has an off day tomorrow so Victor gets to see Yuuri comfortable and at home and Yuuri’s struck with confidence he normally doesn’t have idk I’m flexible”

On a good run through of a program, Yuuri forgets to think.

That’s part of the reason he’d utterly failed in Sochi. He couldn’t _stop_ thinking. About Vicchan, about his weight, about how he needed to medal to keep on Celestino as a coach, about how he _needed_ to not let down his family or his country, about how Victor Nikiforov was there and he was _finally_ skating on the same ice as him, his goal for more than a decade, _the reason he was here_ , and how he hadn’t been able to say goodbye.

Skating the Stammi Vicino aria program Victor Nikiforov had put together to stay in shape (or rather, not let himself go entirely) for the months after had been exactly the level Yuuri had needed to keep from falling into despair and giving up. That skate - every time he ran through it, the only things in his body were breathing, focus, his loneliness turned to hope, and the grounding thoughts of Victor. He wanted to compete again. He didn’t know how he would, without the funds for a coach, but he’d gotten this far, and he needed a second chance to redeem himself on the same ice as Victor Nikiforov; prove himself not just worthy to be his competitor, but capable of the skill required to surpass him.

~

Forgetting to think is impossible in Victor’s presence. Yuuri struggled all throughout the Onsen On Ice preparation, the stakes high enough for him to pull an all-nighter before the competition to makeover his entire mindset concerning the program without even running it by Victor first.

Every time Yuuri has gone through the Eros program, however, he’s still thinking. Eros isn’t him, it’s a character he puts on with the rink as his stage. And Victor can tell.

“Yuuri,” Victor coaxes at the end of the day, the sun low in the sky outside, sounding impossibly seductive himself, “Dance more like you’re trying to seduce me.”

Yuuri doesn’t roll his eyes or scoff, but that’s how derisive he feels; like _he_ could ever seduce Victor. Instead of voicing his doubt, Yuuri goes through the step sequence again, trying to channel more of the feminine character he called upon to win the competition against Yurio. He moves his body more like flowing water than with seductive purpose, since seductive purpose makes Yuuri’s moves not quite as smooth, his insecurity over how it comes across weighing heavily on him. The smoother movements make Yuuri breathe easier; make the following steps more confident. This feels much more _Eros._

Victor doesn’t look impressed when Yuuri finishes, hand under his chin with his index tapping against his cheek. Still, he nods. “Better,” he says, like Yuuri is just warming up, and Yuuri still doesn’t understand what Victor sees in him, especially regarding the expression of sexual love, if the best of what Yuuri’s shown so far gets nothing more than a nod.

Normally Yuuri is appreciative and a little awed at Victor’s faith in him, but today it’s simply frustrating. Yuuri is trying to give it all he has and Victor keeps pushing at him, entirely confident Yuuri had more, which is what a good coach is supposed to do, but Yuuri truly feels at a loss as to what he can give that he hadn’t already.

Victor has earned his trust. Yuuri had nearly fallen apart with guilt last week until Victor had gotten him to the beach; Yuuri had even snapped at him during practice with his frustration on his struggle to exemplify Eros, but Victor had met him halfway and now Yuuri has a completed free skate in addition to his short program. A free skate that Yuuri prefers practicing, as it feels more honest, more himself.

Yuuri nods and sets his jaw at Victor’s feedback. “I want to do it again.”

“Start at the beginning,” Victor tells him, a smile blooming at Yuuri’s words. “Mark the jumps. Focus on the dancing, the seduction. Think of it as if you are on the dance floor with your lover, and you want to keep their eyes on you.”

Victor always speaks intently, but Yuuri can feel something burning in the phrasing. Yuuri searches Victor’s face for a cue, and all he finds are a small, secret smile and eyes bright with teasing, the hue of which Yuuri could spend (has spent, in Detroit, tipsy in his dorm with Phichit) several minutes describing.

Yuuri does as Victor instructed, still thinking too much as he skated. He wouldn’t be able to seduce Victor, ever, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t ever imagined catching his attention in other scenarios. Imagined that after the Grand Prix, Yuuri had medaled (in his loftier dreams, gotten gold and Victor silver), and Victor had looked at him on the podium and told Yuuri how _impressed_ he was with Yuuri’s step sequences, really _exquisite_ , and asked Yuuri _perhaps we could skate together tomorrow once the exhibition is over and grab some coffee?_ Imagined Victor being someone he could have a conversation with at qualifying competitions they happened to both be at and asking each other about Vicchan and Makkachin. Imagined maybe being close enough friends to text each other excitements and frustrations about their programs, like Yuuri did with Phichit.

That’s not to say that all of his imaginings with Victor are so innocent, but Victor was a real person who is _right in front of him_ and will be coaching him until the Grand Prix Final, so Yuuri’s less realistic daydreams of dates and sex and relationships that were too far out of the realm of possibility will have to stay locked up tight.

Victor claps twice, pleased, as Yuuri approaches rinkside and grabs a water bottle to hydrate. “That was even better, Yuuri! I could feel the want and desire! It’s getting more direct. Can you bring more...urgency, to it? Something self assured? Your skating was desirable, but wistful.”

Yuuri puts down his water bottle and drags a hand down his face with a soft laugh. “Self assured,” he echoes.

Victor raises his eyebrows and reaches out to grab Yuuri’s forearm as it rested on the rink barrier, grounding, and Yuuri isn't sure if it's the touch or Victor himself that's grounding, but maybe that doesn’t matter. Yuuri hadn’t realized he’d been avoiding Victor’s gaze until he makes eye contact then. Yuuri had meant to make a joke out of Victor’s phrasing. but Victor looks perfectly serious. “You know the story,” Victor tells him, voice warm and soft. Yuuri grips the barrier tightly. “You made it into one that worked for you. The woman catches the eye of _all_ the men, but she has her eye on one man in particular, the one man who knows her wiles and beauty will lead him to nothing but ruin…and he falls for her anyway. And once she’s finished with him, she tosses him aside in favor of the next lover who can hold her attention, as he couldn’t.”

Yuuri stares at Victor, barely daring to breathe. It hits him, then, that the only person he’s ever wanted to seduce is Victor. It’s Victor’s eyes he wants on him, it’s Victor’s attention he wants on him and no one else, it’s Victor he wants - that he _wants_. And however the story is supposed to go, if Yuuri ever had that, he would not toss it aside; he would never find anything that appealed to him more.

Victor lets go of his arm, smiling wide. “There. Whatever it is you’re thinking of right now, skate with it. That’s exactly it.”

Yuuri blanches, blood running cold. Had his thoughts shown on his face? He nods quickly and pushes off to center ice to start again, heart pounding before he even got to first position. He had to be more careful! If Victor figured it out, it could jeopardize everything.

This run through is technically perfect beyond a touch down on the Salchow, but Yuuri knows his insecurity hampers the smoothness he’d found in his last one by imagining moving like water. The pleased look on Victor’s face had disappeared by the time Yuuri finished. Victor taps his fingers on the rink barrier, thoughtful.

“You made progress,” Victor finally says, and he offers a soft smile. “You’ll be ready in no time.”

Yuuri feels the itch in his skin to practice more. “I can do it again—”

“You’ll only get frustrated,” Victor cuts him off, firm. “I don’t want you to hate your short program. I don’t want you getting discouraged.”

“I don’t hate it,” Yuuri protests immediately.

“Not yet,” Victor replies.

Yuuri opens his mouth to protest before he sees Victor’s secret little smile. Victor was teasing him. Yuuri rolls his eyes then, unable to keep from smiling a bit himself.

Victor continues, mirth clear in his voice now, “Really? Is this how we treat coaches? No wonder Yakov’s lost his hair.”

Yuuri covers his mouth to stop a laugh and Victor keeps on, absolutely gleeful now, but getting back on topic. “Perhaps it would help to imagine it for now as if you already have your lover’s attention, so you can display that confidence. You’re not worried about losing him, but _he_ is worried about losing _you_.”

Now _that_ was a thought, though not one Yuuri could see himself skating with Victor appraising him. “Just once more, on my own, while you shower and pack your skates.”

Victor hesitates.

“I’ll mark my jumps,” Yuuri promises. He just needed to try this program _once_ without worrying about what Victor was seeing or feeling when he watched.

A few beats pass before Victor grants his request with a nod, stooping to pick up his bag. “Yes. Just remember -”

“‘Self-assured,’” Yuuri quips, smiling at Victor’s laugh.

Victor nods, grinning, heading to the doors. “Yes. _Mark_ your jumps,” he calls over his shoulder.

And Yuuri is blissfully, finally alone.

~

He waits, skates some figures to get the jitters out and make sure Victor isn’t coming back because he forgot something, letting his thoughts swirl. This is his last shot; he’d already decided to retire after winning the Grand Prix Final with Victor. Yuuri would have to give everything he has to win. No, more than that — he’ll have to give beyond his limits if he wants gold. Determination settles over him, and he takes center ice, breathing even.

If the only person he wants is Victor, and that want is what is going to get him to the next level of this program, then he has to let himself _feel_ it.

He can feel the beat of the music from memory at this point and lets it flow through his body, feeling more than thinking now. Yuuri _knows_ who he’s dancing for, and it’s not katsudon. Letting his body lead his feelings, Yuuri could nearly feel Victor’s thumb pressing into his bottom lip when Yuuri blew a kiss before his first step sequence, and the heat spread from there. Free from insecurity, Yuuri would take Victor’s thumb past his lips…

Victor touches him without prompting and Yuuri feels every single one now. The caress down his forearm to his hand, the cupping of his jaw in Victor’s fingers; Victor’s hands spreading along his thighs and calves to stretch him in the springs. Safe in his imagination, Yuuri can believe he _has_ Victor. It’s Victor he’s teasing as he dances, spins in the air. Yuuri is warm all over and he wants, wants, _wants_ , wants Victor’s attention and touch and Victor’s entire being.

Yuuri doesn’t think anymore, desire ramped up to a level that feels like a ravenous hunger as he skates, that self-assuredness he’d been missing in his every move. Seductive, confident, heated.

At the end, Yuuri throws himself away from Victor’s imagined touch; not because he doesn’t want it, but because it’s better for him to pull away before it can be taken from him.

Breathing hard, exhilarated by the vivid scenario of being wanted by Victor as much as Yuuri wants him, Yuuri let it buzz under his skin as he approaches rinkside, this time stepping off and sitting on the bench to unlace his skates.

Yuuri almost misses Victor’s presence. It takes a few moments until after he’s removed his skates to register. His head snaps up, surprised.

Victor stands there, not even a meter away from him, still unshowered, bag still slung over his shoulder. His face - Yuuri had only had dreams of Victor looking in his direction with such focus and heat. If Yuuri didn’t know better, he’d say his imagination had run away from him, but Yuuri does know better. Still riding high on the _craving_ burning under his skin, Yuuri stood, stepping close into Victor’s space, looking up at him.

Victor speaks, almost too lowly to hear, “That was perfect. Your passion is blinding, the fire in you is going to burn anyone who gets too close. You have what you need to take gold.” Yuuri can see Victor’s adam’s apple bob when he swallows. “Who were you thinking of?”

Every time Victor got close, Yuuri couldn’t wait to run; keeping feelings under wraps meant keeping distance. When Yuuri initiates it now, though, he doesn’t have to think about it. He can feel the tension between them, but instead of his heart pounding and fear keeping his body tense, Yuuri wants more. Especially if it means feeding the feeling he’d had while skating, especially if it helps him finesse this program enough to win, _especially_ if it means Victor keeps _looking_ at him like this. Yuuri doesn’t want Victor to ever take his eyes off of him.

Yuuri reaches up and places his palm over Victor’s heart, a smile tugging his lips up in satisfaction at its elevated rate. He doesn’t think he imagines Victor’s breath hitching. “The man I’m seducing,” he answers, honest and plain.

Hearing himself say those words out loud to Victor Nikiforov’s face snaps Yuuri out of it, and he takes a half step back, quickly removing his hand, eyes widening. _No_ , he couldn’t afford to humiliate himself like this, no matter - no matter _how_ cute Victor looks when he pouts like that. Yuuri isn’t going to survive until December, is he? He’s just going to embarrass himself until he finds a rock big enough to crawl under and die.

Except - except Victor wasn’t even supposed to _see_ this! Yuuri was trying something _alone_. He frowns, reproachful. “You were supposed to be showering!”

Victor hits him with his dazzling camera smile. “Yuuuuri,” Victor sings, like Yuuri’s name is his favorite thing to say, “I lied, I wanted to see you put your idea into action.”

Yuuri straightens, indignant. “Am I only allowed to practice with you watching me?”

Victor’s smile turns that edge of predatory that Yuuri has come to associate with Victor speaking a sharp truth. “You said you’d mark the jumps,” Victor says, softer than Yuuri had expected with that smile. “You don’t need me to tell you why you shouldn’t be doing quads without someone around. I don’t want to tell you not to do them; they were truly perfect in the flow of the music you were creating, and I would’ve wrecked it if you’d known I was watching.”

Yuuri grimaces, thinking of Victor’s injury some seven years ago. If anyone knows the consequences of taking risks like that and the work required to come back from it, it’s Victor. Yuuri still doesn’t concede aloud, purely from stubbornness.

Victor offers his hand, that edge in his smile fading. “I know skating alone helps you. I’ll promise to not infringe on that - but you have to promise to take precautions to preserve yourself. Deal?”

Yuuri doesn’t hesitate, taking Victor’s hand to shake and nodding, swallowing hard when the heat of his touch stirs his earlier…rumination, when the warmth of Victor’s touch lingers, even though the cold of the rink should have removed it moments after Victor pulled away.

What has he done?

~

Yuuri’s figured out Victor is interested; that Victor sees Eros in Yuuri through _attraction_ to Yuuri and that’s why he’d assigned Yuuri the Eros program. It’s a realization that came to him in pieces over the last six months rather than all at once, which is likely a good thing, since it’s... _huge_. Boggling. Sometimes he still doesnt believe it. But every time Yuuri thinks about Victor feeling that way about him, lets insecurity convince himself it’s not real, Victor _touches_ him again. It’s not platonic. This is not how Yuuko and Takeshi touch him, nor Phichit. Victor takes more liberties than _Christophe Giacometti_ does, even if he’s more subtle. The other difference is that…underneath Yuuri’s worry about ruining everything, Yuuri really doesn’t want him to stop.

He doesn’t know what to do about it beyond accepting it, and Victor never escalates, even though it’s been going on since Victor arrived in April. It’s November now, and Yuuri had somehow survived the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu qualifier back in September, even with last years humiliating performance at Nationals haunting him. He didn’t just _survive_ , really - he came out on the other side of it in first place, scoring ten points above his personal best, even though he’d nearly broken his nose and disobeyed his coach.

The programs he and Victor put together truly showcase Yuuri’s strengths as a skater, dancer, and world class athlete and even have room for Yuuri to escalate the technical elements as he grows. Victor himself has insisted that Yuuri trust in Yuuri’s own gut, helping Yuuri follow through on the decisions _Yuuri_ makes. Victor continues to prove Yuuri can trust him, professionally and...and...

Victor had held Yuuri accountable for how he’d treated Minami. Victor had called him beautiful. Victor had applied lip balm directly to Yuuri’s lips, and Yuuri hadn’t stuttered or blushed and pulled away, still feeling a little Eros from his earlier short program, still riding that line between inviting touch and pursuing touch.

Yuuri had declared his theme. He’d found love again, love he hadn’t truly appreciated until Victor came to Yuuri and showed him how much everyone cared for Yuuri and how Yuuri loved them. His love for skating, his love for Hasetsu, his love for his family, and yes, his love for Victor, all had new life breathed into them when Victor appeared in the onsen behind his parents’ inn. Yuuri hadn’t really meant to grab the microphone and make the skating world think he was _in love_ with Victor (Yuuri wasn’t entirely sure of that himself - what was that supposed to feel like?), but according to a flurry of texts from Phichit, that had been exactly what he did. What was Yuuri supposed to do after that, call his own press conference and _correct_ them? Once Victor approached him to ask about it, Yuuri would clarify what he meant, as Yuuri is so grateful for what Victor has done for him thus far.

Except that was back in September and it’s early November now, and Victor _still_ hasn’t asked him about it. They’re in China for the Cup, Yuuri’s first GPF qualifier, the short program is later today, and he isn’t about to rock the boat by bringing it up first. Now, here at the rink with the event about to start, Yuuri is nervous, but focused. He regrets running his mouth about winning gold; this is the best he’s been so far, but he could say the same about the men he’s competing with.

Thankfully, Yuuri’s nearly forgotten what it was like to struggle to reach Eros. He’s aware of his feelings for Victor _all the time_ , now, and it turns out he needn’t have worried about ruining anything by letting them be closer to the surface. His anxiety about failure has kept the same baseline - if not _decreased_ \- since having them as the fuel for his programs means that he is acing the TES for incredibly difficult components with his confidence in them. Confidence in _himself_.

He’s so grateful for Victor...even with the night before and Victor’s behavior at the hot-pot shop. Yuuri had been hot under the collar and couldn’t do anything about it, which was nothing new, but Phichit bearing witness and giving Yuuri knowing looks all throughout dinner and making comments Yuuri had to deny because Celestino and Guang Hong and Leo (and _Victor,_ who was _drunk)_ had added an entirely different level. He’s reminded of this when he sees an article on the photo Phichit posted of a naked Victor draped over Yuuri’s front, wearing a possessive expression. Yuuri feels heated in his jacket and athletic pants just looking at the photo, swallowing. He really can’t mess up now - what would the world think? A program about sexual love after a photo like this better be mind-blowing...

A hand drags itself across Yuuri’s ass before groping him under one cheek and lips are pressed to his ear and Yuuri jumps, flushing, shocked out of his thoughts, heart pounding. “Yuuri,” his name is drawled playfully, “why didn’t you invite me?”

Yuuri exhales in a whoosh and inhales on a gasp, only coming back down on his feet when he sees who it is. “Chris!!”

“Looks like you got into shape.” Christophe Giacometti looks down warmly at him as he teases Yuuri, expression shifting to a knowing one when he sees what’s on Yuuri’s phone. Yuuri smiles back. “Guess your _master’s_ giving you very thorough training.” He says master with the innuendo of _lover_ , and Yuuri can feel the blush and smile still on his face.

Victor saves him before Yuuri is forced to deny it, coming over to greet Chris, and Chris’s demeanor shifts to...he’s still playful, but while he’d been warm with Yuuri, Chris sounds almost chagrined. Chris’s coach comes over too, and the passing jokes his friends in Hasetsu and Celestino’s had made in Japan come to life right in front of Yuuri, a strike to his heart in every statement. _He’s not motivated without you, come back to the fold._ Then two women’s single skaters from Victor’s old rink in St. Petersburg call Victor away before Victor or Yuuri can really stand up for what they’ve created together, and it continues. _Are you really a coach? Just split up with him already. You know it won’t last. Don’t you feel sorry for him?_

Chris, still by his side, notices. He speaks in a sympathetic tone to Yuuri, in a way that suggests that maybe he thinks he’s trying to help, but he wasn’t, even with his warm smile back on his face. “Yuuri, the sin of keeping Victor to yourself is grave. The whole world is hoping for his return.”

Hearing Chris, watching Victor interact with required politeness to people insulting him, a savage fervor starts in Yuuri’s gut and spreads like a fever through his body. The warmth makes his blush worse, and he barely bites back the sharp words he knows are written on his heart. _They can’t_ have _him_ , _he’s_ mine _!_

He nods stiffly in response to Chris instead, excusing himself.

Yuuri’s not to be pitied. He’s not unsure of his capabilities or his programs here. He’s not uncertain of his commitment or Victor’s. Everyone else seems to be, but he’s going to prove them wrong, on _every_ count. They won’t be satisfied with seeing him skate in place of Victor, but he doesn’t care. He’s going to skate, he’s going to _win_ , and he’s going to make the whole world hate him for stealing Victor from them. Victor wants _him_ , and he is the _only_ one who can satisfy Victor.

Katsuki Yuuri is the _only_ one in the whole world who knows Victor’s love, and he’s going to prove it.

These feelings keep him focused in warm up, and the flames are only fanned when he gets on the ice and Victor holds his hand, and tells Yuuri he can win with his own personal charm. Yuuri’s not thinking - he grips Victor’s hand tightly, shoves close until his forehead is pressed to Victor’s, eyes intent on Victor’s wide, beautiful blue. “Don’t _ever_ take your eyes off me,” Yuuri commands, voice low, and he pushes off the rinkside to take center ice before Victor, frozen with surprise, can summon a response.

Yuuri forgets to think as he skates. His turbulent feelings carrying his program: spiteful, possessive, confident, _wanting_. Victor is _his_.

He scores 106.84 for his flawless short program.

~

With Yuuri’s sense of possession appeased by scoring so high in the short program, and preening at Victor’s delighted tight hug and excited praise at his ear after the scoring (with Yuuri’s internal fanboy in awe that he’s had Christophe Giacometti’s _and_ Victor Nikiforov’s lips on his ear within hours of each other, what even is his _life_ anymore), Yuuri is content to watch the rest of his competitors and stay close to Victor. The warmth, near viscous lava at this point, never abates; Victor’s neediness from the day before has settled as long as he’s close to Yuuri, it seems. Victor holds him from behind as they watch Chris’s program and Yuuri just wants to press even closer, have Victor hold him tighter. He knows Victor _would_ if he asked. Yuuri should ask!

Chris looks like he’s about to orgasm on the ice, and Yuuri closes his eyes, feeling himself getting frustrated again with anxiety and insecurity starting to climb up behind it.. He remembers his own score, Victor’s assurance and praise, Victor’s arms currently around his front, and breathes easier, leaning back just a little into Victor’s hold, giving up on his fight against it.

Victor holds him tighter. Yuuri hangs onto that.

~

Chris’s program ends and…and Yuuri is still in first place.

 _Yuuri is in first place_. Yuuri is in first place after the short program, and Georgi Popovich is more than seven points behind him in second.

Yuuri almost curls in on himself at first when he realizes, but then Phichit comes up to him and tells him he’ll be working hard to pass him in the free skate, and Victor takes his hand, and Yuuri realizes the people who care about him believe he can win. _Victor_ believes he can win. The fever he felt from before threatens to come back, and he and Victor make confident statements in the interviews before going back to the hotel. Yuuri’s back is straight and he might be grinning, or glaring, or both, and he looks straight into the camera and tells the world that he and Victor will win with the power of love.

The two of them get back to the hotel for much needed rest, not needing to speak. Instead, they walk to their room in companionable silence. Yuuri works to calm down so he can actually get some sleep. It doesn’t work very well - he’s riding high on victory, on the knowledge that he has Victor’s love, and a little on spiteful glee, and the fire of want under his skin that has become a constant over the last few months.  Yuuri’s having trouble preventing his desire taking the forefront of his brain.

In their room, Victor exhales happily, the public persona of Victor Nikiforov melting off of him until just Victor is left. Yuuri had seen something similar at the qualifier for Japan; it’s much more pronounced here. Yuuri wants to hug him again, tell Victor that Yuuri sees him as he is. With everything Yuuri’s feeling now, however, he deems it best to wait. Victor neatly takes off his gloves and sheds his coat, placing them both in the closet. Yuuri sets down his bag carefully by the closet, but his eyes don’t leave Victor, even when Victor catches him watching only a foot away and smiles tiredly. “Wow,” Victor says on another happy sigh, the sound of contentedness after a hard day’s work.

“Wow,” Yuuri agrees, still looking at him. He feels on the edge of a precipice, this need for Victor propelling him even as he digs in his proverbial heels to keep it from happening.

Victor takes off his formal suit jacket, then his shoes and socks. Yuuri feels as though he might die of heat stroke if this _ardor_ doesn't die _down._  Victor starts on his belt, and Yuuri feels his courage snap, averting his eyes, his own fingers reaching for the zipper of his jacket so he can get into his pajamas and then bed.

“I was thinking,” Victor starts, and Yuuri looks up, because Victor is using his Coach Voice. “Your embodiment of Eros today was captivating.”

Yuuri nods, unzipping and hanging up his jacket. “I’m glad.”

“I was ensnared,” Victor confirms, smiling. “The entire audience, too.”

Nodding again, he fights the blaze that flames to dangerous heights inside him as Victor spoke, knowing Victor is about to make a point.

“But I had a thought. Perhaps, next time, instead—”

Yuuri doesn’t mean to interrupt or cut him off, but Yuuri’s body has stopped listening to his brain. He steps forward, grabbing Victor’s hips, and steps again, forcing Victor backwards into the wall. Victor’s body is now between the wall and Yuuri’s body, and Yuuri glares up at him.

“‘Next time, instead’, what?” Yuuri retorts, and he feels as if the flames inside him are at his very fingertips now. He grabs at Victor’s collar, Victor’s hips now feeling like an awkward place to hold this close to him. Victor’s eyes are so _bright_ , and he’s _smiling,_ the _jerk_. “I skated a technical perfect short program, _you_ said as much. Second place is more than seven points behind me, and we both know I’m even stronger in my free skate. Is it my PCS you think I can improve?” Yuuri’s shaking a little, and Victor’s still smiling, though it’s softened. Victor’s hands are behind Yuuri’s waist in a soothing touch, and Yuuri’s indignation spikes.

“You think I need to give more to find Eros?” Yuuri demands, and honestly, he doesn’t want to hear Victor’s answer. He’d rather prove he has enough to exceed and surpass Victor’s expectations and enough to surprise him.

Yuuri pushes entirely into Victor’s space, taking his lips in a fiery kiss.

Victor’s soothing touch changes, fingers digging into his waist, gasping against Yuuri’s lips. The sound sends a thrill through Yuuri's veins, and as Victor's lips part to let it free, Yuuri pushes closer and explores with an even deeper kiss. One of of Victor’s hands winds through the hair above the nape of Yuuri’s neck before fisting behind Yuuri’s head, and Yuuri feels as if he’s going to _melt_ under the onslaught of heat.

Victor’s kissing Yuuri back as roughly as Yuuri gives, tugging at Yuuri’s bottom lip with his teeth to retaliate against Yuuri’s rough presses of their lips and light biting. Yuuri grabs Victor’s belt buckle and tugs to finish removing it, tossing it to the side. He’s stopped when Victor’s hands are on Yuuri’s shoulders, pushing on them, and Yuuri lets Victor break the kiss, panting against his lips.

“We shouldn’t,” Victor says, low. His voice threatens to crack with desire and Yuuri only presses closer, their bodies slotted together now, lips dragging up Victor’s jawline. He doesn’t _want_ to pull away and _Victor_ doesn't want him to pull away, either; Yuuri feels heady, the confirmation of all his unrealistic daydreams near making him sway. Victor groans, his hand fisting behind Yuuri’s head again but pulling him closer, not away. “Your free skate, tomorrow...”

“Kissing you wouldn’t affect my skating tomorrow,” Yuuri murmurs, breathless with need, biting where Victor’s jawline meets his neck. Victor shudders and Yuuri’s fingers curl in Victor’s belt loops; _this_ is Eros. This is what Victor was talking about back in April before Yuuri snapped at him, before the beach - thinking about how a lover wants you. Victor _wants_ him, and had been shoving it in Yuuri’s face, practically begging Yuuri to take inspiration from him. Yuuri feels high off of desire and smirks into Victor’s skin. “Unless you wanted more?”

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor’s own voice is breathless, desperate, “don’t tease.”

“Tell me.” Yuuri lifts his head from Victor’s neck for another kiss, this one a simple press of lips. He needs to know, needs to hear it in Victor’s voice, not his own mind. “Do you want me?”

“You know the answer,” Victor retorts, smiling again. The cheek of it is somewhat diminished when Yuuri places his thigh between Victor’s legs and lifts it to grind into Victor’s impressive arousal and Victor’s head falls back to _thud_ into the wall, a whine high in his throat. “Yuuri!”

“I said tell me,” Yuuri returns, unable to resist leaning in to bite at where Victor’s pulse jumps under the skin, laving over it soothingly with his tongue. “I want to hear it.”

“I want you,” Victor gasps, tugging Yuuri’s hair helplessly, sending goosebumps all over Yuuri’s body. Yuuri wants to send Victor sky-high with pleasure; he wants more of Victor’s noises, and he wants to know every time they go into the rink Victor’s eyes will never leave him. He wants to consume Victor _entirely_. Yuuri uses a hand to unbutton and unzip Victor’s slacks, pushing that hand under the waistband under Victor’s boxers to grip him. Victor’s _hard_ , hot, and heavy, and his stuttering exhale of a moan matches the skips of Yuuri’s heart.

Yuuri holds him in hand, his lips still on Victor’s neck, his brain foggy with desire. Victor’s hands are clawing behind Yuuri’s shoulders, nails biting through the practice shirt Yuuri wears, and Yuuri’s very glad he changed back at the rink so he doesn’t have to worry about his costume. He strokes Victor once, twice, and stops. Victor’s reaction, the minute jerking of his hips and the gasp that came from him, is mesmerizing.

“I don’t know if I’m convinced,” Yuuri says, voice thick with a tease. He knows Victor said it, but it’s not enough. “Did you want to stop? I do have my free skate tomorrow.”

Victor _whimpers_ , and he moves both his hands to the front of Yuuri’s shirt and makes fists in the fabric there. Then he pulls Yuuri to his toes for another desperate kiss, making Yuuri let go of his dick. When it ends, both their chests are heaving and Victor is looking at him intently, and it twists something up in Yuuri’s gut in the most pleasant way.

Victor _grinds_ their erections together and it’s Yuuri’s turn to clutch at Victor and gasp. “Yuuri,” Victor breathes, blush bright across his cheeks and nose. “I think I might _die_ if you stop touching me.”

Yuuri feels the same, so he pulls back and tugs Victor with him, toward the bed. He pushes Victor onto the mattress and tugs off his own shirt, tossing it where he’d tossed Victor’s belt. He’d seen Victor looking at - _staring_ at - Yuuri in the onsen, and Yuuri had politely ignored it; now, he can watch Victor’s blush go from pink to red as Victor looks his fill. Now, he can see Victor’s expression turn hungry and know it’s all for him, and if it makes Yuuri’s face burn, well. Could anyone blame him?

Victor unbuttons his own shirt quickly and Yuuri climbs onto his lap to swat his hands away and finish the task for him. Taking advantage of the newly bared skin, Yuuri mouthed along where Victor’s neck meets his shoulder while his hands finish unbuttoning and pushing off the dress shirt. Victor’s breathing is uneven and he reaches out to touch, but Yuuri pulls away, teasing, a hand on his chest and a smirk on his lips.

Victor’s attempt at a grumble sounds more like a whine, but he obediently lays back on the bed, eyes pleading. “I’ve been wanting to touch you for _months_ and you’re going to make me wait even _more_?”

“Months,” Yuuri repeats, smirking wider, laughing to himself as he shifts down and finally off Victor’s lap to unbutton and pull off his remaining clothing, baring Victor entirely now; nothing left to hide everything Yuuri had ever fantasized about since Yuuri even had a libido. “You think _that’s_ a long time?” And because it’s _right there_ , Yuuri takes Victor’s hard cock into his mouth, the head of it slipping past his lips.

Yuuri had anticipated Victor’s hips thrusting up, but his shout is a wonderful surprise. He’d only meant to take a taste, but now that Yuuri’s following this flame in his gut, he takes Victor deeper. He doesn’t even realize he’s closed his eyes until he hollows his cheeks and Victor makes the most desperate moan and fists a hand in Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri snaps his eyes open, watching Victor.

It’s been barely a minute and Victor’s a _mess_. He’s propped up on his arms to watch Yuuri, his flush now spread down to his chest. His hair is mussed.

Yuuri wants to see him ruined.

He keeps it up, learning Victor’s taste and delighting in how Victor reacts; collapsing back onto the bed as he moans, bending his knees to dig his feet onto the mattress, lightly tugging Yuuri’s hair whenever Yuuri’s tongue does something he particularly likes. All it takes is Yuuri bobbing his head and making it a little messier to ease the glide of Victor’s erection past his lips for Victor to make all sorts of broken noises and tug his hair harder.

Yuuri relaxes his throat and takes Victor deep enough to swallow around him. Victor _shouts_ and tugs Yuuri’s hair hard enough to pull him off.

Nipping Victor’s inner thigh in playful reprimand, Yuuri huffs. “Victooor,” he teases, drawing Victor’s name out in an affectionate mirror of how Victor says his, “I was having fun.”

“Get up here,” Victor mumbles, grabbing under Yuuri’s arms and pulling him into a needy kiss. Or, rather, trying. Yuuri didn’t let him draw out the kiss longer than a few seconds, smirking at Victor’s whine when he pulled up.

Suddenly Yuuri doesn't know which way’s up, and it surprises a laugh out of him - Victor had rolled him over. His laugh is interrupted, and Victor’s kiss is perfect, his lips soft, even as it deepens. If Yuuri had any worry about ruining this, about Victor not wanting it as much or as badly as Yuuri does, it’s gone now. With every stroke of Victor’s tongue, an anxiety of Yuuri’s is washed away, and the heat inside him is soothed a little more. Just for that reason, Yuuri could kiss him forever. Yuuri lifts his hips to help Victor get the rest of Yuuri’s clothes off, grinning and sitting up when Victor makes a frustrated noise and has to break the kiss when it gets caught around one of his ankles. They look at each other, catching their breath, both smiling.

Victor pushes off the bed suddenly, bending to fish through his suitcase. The view of his plump ass doesn’t help Yuuri’s thirst at _all_ , and Victor comes back and sits on the bed, holding up packets of lube as his prize. Yuuri’s the first to push back into Victor’s space, straddling him properly now. The packets drop onto the duvet and Victor grabs onto his hips, grasping tightly as Yuuri grinds against him lightly, reaching down with both hands to grasp their erections in one grip. “Yuuri,” Victor moans, pressing kisses to Yuuri’s neck.

“You have lube.” The fire inside him is back with a vengeance, and Yuuri gyrates his hips into the grip again, the friction of pulling at his foreskin and Victor’s cry of pleasure stoking the flames. “You brought lube? You _really_ wanted this.” Victor nods helplessly into his shoulder, and Yuuri can’t help but tease him. “You just assumed I wanted it, too?” He tsk’s at Victor, dragging his hips around in a slow circle.

Victor uses his grip on Yuuri’s hips to hold him in place and thrust, dragging his erection behind Yuuri, brushing along Yuuri’s rim, and it’s Yuuri’s turn to cling onto Victor, breath hitching. “I hoped,” Victor corrects, breathless himself.

Yuuri grabs behind Victor’s neck for a short kiss, feeling his cheeks warm at Victor’s admission. “I do,” he murmurs. “I do want this. You.”

Victor grins against Yuuri’s lips. “What do you want me to do, Yuuri?”

Yuuri scrapes his nails against Victor’s scalp to trigger another beautiful gasp, and it’s impossible not to admire the way Victor’s silver lashes flutter shut, the way his lips — normally heart-shaped in a smile — part temptingly enough for Yuuri to steal another kiss. Yuuri’s _never_ going to tire of this. “I _want_ you,” he starts, nerves and lust tripping over themselves until Yuuri’s ten year desire for Victor won out, “to open the lube, finger me, and then fuck me.”

Victor inhales sharply and Yuuri grins back. He watches Victor's pretty mouth, lips parted to try and catch his breath, and Yuuri's _so_ glad _he’s_ the only one who can satisfy Victor like this. Victor is _his_. "Do you think you can manage that? I know you’ve thought about my stamina, are you worried?”

Victor leans back enough that Yuuri can see the glint in his eye. “Are you calling me old?”

Yuuri tsk’s again. “You _are_ moving pretty slow for someone who claims to have been thinking about this for months—”

Victor starts moving before Yuuri even starts speaking, ripping open a couple packets and spreading the lubricant over his fingers, interrupting Yuuri with a press against Yuuri’s entrance, and then in. Yuuri squirms as he gets used to it, taking another kiss from Victor’s lips, the heat inside him _finally_ starting to be appeased.

Only momentarily, however. Victor moves inside him so slowly. Yuuri growls in heated frustration and pushes back against his hand, demanding. “ _More_.”

Victor hesitantly presses a second finger in and Yuuri whines, frustration and need only increasing. “I’m not going to break, Victor, _please_ ,” Yuuri pleads, grabbing Victor’s dick and strokes him once, twice. “I want _this_ in me.”

Victor gifts him with an open mouthed kiss on his jaw and shifts his arm behind Yuuri, and _oh_ it makes a difference. The fingers stretch and curl in him and in no time at all, Yuuri is writhing on Victor’s fingers, all too aware of how Victor is looking at him. The usual bright blue of Victor’s eyes is closer to a molten silver, the need that Yuuri himself feels written all over his face.  Victor’s worked up enough to have a light sheen of sweat, and a few locks of hair are clinging to his skin. Distractedly, Yuuri strokes it back, the touch tender.

A choked moan forces itself past Yuuri’s throat when Victor curls his fingers and tugs them out slowly, dragging against his prostate. He barely registers Victor applying more lube and pushing three fingers in, truly stretching him now. Yuuri arches, gasping for air, shifting to try and find that spot again—

— _there_ it is—

Yuuri’s seeing stars, now, because Victor’s stroking his prostate like he wants Yuuri to come from this alone. Victor enters a fourth finger into him and Yuuri is finally starting to feel full. He’s moaning constantly at the point, being pulled closer and closer to the edge.

Except Victor, right before Yuuri falls over that precipice, pulls his fingers out.

Panting, Yuuri pushes into a rough, biting kiss, growling when Victor _chuckles_. Victor is doing something with his hands, but since it’s not putting them back inside Yuuri, Yuuri decides to occupy himself. Dragging his lips down to just below where the collar of Victor’s dress shirt would rest, Yuuri sinks his teeth into the skin there and sucks. He doesn’t let up when Victor groans and bucks his hips, only pulling away once he’s sure the mark he leaves is dark enough to last for a few days. Yuuri admires it, smirking when he hears how labored Victor’s breathing is.

Then it’s Yuuri’s turn to fight for breath when Victor rubs his now lubed cock up and down the crack between Yuuri’s cheeks, the slide teasing and incredible. Victor’s voice is playful. “Is this what you wanted, Yuuri?”

Yuuri glares at him, reaches down to hold Victor’s dick in place, and lines up, sliding down onto Victor. He groans, head falling back, letting go so he can take him in to the hilt, his palm on Victor’s heaving chest now instead to keep balance. “This,” Yuuri rasps. “This, _this_ —” Yuuri lifts up, and comes back down, twin moans coming from both him and Victor.

Even like this, Victor looks unfairly good. Hair hopelessly out of place, nose and cheeks red with the rest of his face pink, the flush spread down to his chest. Yuuri rides him, and Victor joins the rhythm by thrusting into him, both of them getting closer to climax. Unable to get enough, Yuuri bounces, moaning shamelessly louder at the new friction.

Victor’s hand grasps the back of Yuuri’s neck, and he speaks, his voice washing over Yuuri. “Yuuri, you feel - you look —” Victor can’t seem to finish his thought and he snaps his hips up with a groan before starting again. “You move like _music_ , Yuuri, better than I, I ever imagined.” As he speaks, Victor’s hand caresses Yuuri’s skin, palm drifting until he’s cupping Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri shifts to leans into it, changing their angle so that Victor actually reaches deeper, and Victor groans while Yuuri keens.

Victor seems a little too close and Yuuri’s not ready for it to be over, so Yuuri lifts off completely, catching his breath, smirking when Victor whines and tries to pull him back down. “You imagined this, Victor?” Yuuri murmurs, playful. All this time Yuuri had been holding himself back with Victor right in front of him, and Victor had been doing the same.

Victor groans lowly, hips moving up helplessly. “ _Yes_. Yuuri!”

Yuuri is never going to struggle to find Eros again. This memory will fuel him every time he runs through that program - the desperation in every line of Victor’s body, the lava under every centimeter of Yuuri’s skin. He presses their foreheads together like he had earlier that day, a hand finding Victor’s to peel it off his hip so he could entwine their fingers. “You know how long I’ve wanted this, Victor?” Victor shakes his head and Yuuri pecks his lips before tugging on Victor’s bottom lip with his teeth. “Years.”

Victor’s breath shakes and he squeezes Yuuri’s hand. “Years,” he echoes.

Yuuri smirks. “You have a lot to live up to. Up for the challenge?” He pushes back down onto Victor, moaning with him. Caught by surprise when Victor thrusts in roughly at the end, he cries out. “ _Victor_!” Victor grinds his hips in, burying himself as deep into Yuuri as he can, and Yuuri sees stars as Victor finds that spot again, but with his dick this time. Yuuri pushes at Victor’s chest with no small amount of pressure, and he lets a command enter his tone as he speaks. “Lay down.”

Victor lays back and Yuuri gets his knees to the bed, giving him far more leverage, letting go of Victor's hand in the process. He doesn’t expect Victor to move that hand and place his palm over Yuuri’s heart, and his eyes snap to Victor’s. Fondness meets Yuuri’s gaze; warmth, affection, need, all swimming in the depths of Victor’s silvery-blue gaze.

Then Victor smirks and he drags his hand down Yuuri’s abdomen. It makes Yuuri arch, and he lifts up on Victor before sliding back down. Victor gasps Yuuri’s name, his gasps turning to chants as Yuuri does this over and over and _over_ again. Yuuri remembers to move like like water, like Eros; the way he'd moved on the rink in Hasetsu when he was just starting to understand, though Victor’s _much_ more affected by it this time around. He finds a rolling, steady rhythm, creating the friction they both need. Victor pushes into him every third roll, and Yuuri’s eyes near roll back in pleasure every time he does it. Their harsh breaths and the bed creaking and the sound of their skin meeting creates a melody that Yuuri knows will be impressed upon his brain forever.

Victor’s hips stutter, and Yuuri’s thighs burn, but his orgasm is creeping up on him. So close, so _close_.

“Yuuri, Yuuri please,” Victor begs, voice wrecked. “You feel so _good_ , so tight, I need to - please —”

“Not yet,” Yuuri cuts him off, rasping. “Not until I do.”

Victor let’s out a sound that can only be described as a sob, and he moves his hips more urgently. Brushing Yuuri’s prostate on every upstroke now, Victor moves a hand to pump Yuuri’s until-now neglected hard-on, and it all comes together to push Yuuri _screaming_ over the edge, scraping his nails down Victor’s chest to leave trails of raised red skin as his climax gushes all over Victor’s abs.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Yuuri registers Victor’s pleading but Yuuri can’t summon a response and Victor comes inside him, filling Yuuri to the brim. Yuuri keens softly, a hand moving to clutch at his stomach.

Unable, unwilling to hold himself up anymore, Yuuri falls to the side beside Victor. Victor softens his fall, smiling at Yuuri. Yuuri feels - full, and, and fluttery...it’s hard to describe. He’s _never_ felt this satiated. Victor’s ruined him for anyone else, he’s sure of it.

It hits Yuuri that this has likely been true for a long time and he feels his face heat even more than sex had already warmed it.

Victor cups under his jaw, drawing close for a kiss. “I’m going to go clean up.”

Yuuri tries pushing up onto his arms. It doesn’t work, so he instead lays on his back and stretches, looking up at Victor through his lashes. “We could do it together,” Yuuri suggests, sultry.

Getting into Yuuri’s space, Victor kisses him. It’s lingering; an echo of their activities, biting just once before pulling away. Yuuri whimpers with pleasure, but he’s too tired to go again. “You have to sleep,” Victor tells him, his smile fond. “And I worry that we’ll get a little too occupied cleaning up together.”

Victor has a point, but that doesn’t mean Yuuri has to like it. Yuuri knows he’s frowning, but he nods. Victor kisses him again, purely affectionate this time, before rolling off the bed to stand up.

“After all,” Victor says, flirting, “my student’s blowing away the world with his free skate tomorrow. I have to be in top form to support him, so I need to get to sleep too.”

“Mm,” Yuuri replies, keeping his face blank. “I only wish my coach was as dedicated to his position.”

Playfully wounded, Victor clutches at his heart. “ _Yuuuuri_ , you’re so cruel to me!”

Yuuri can’t help but giggle at Victor’s dramatic antics, waving him off. “Go shower, I’ll go after you!”

Once Victor’s padded into the bathroom, Yuuri grabs a few disposable wipes from his own luggage to do a cursory cleaning, then sets out what he needs for tomorrow. Heart pounding once he’s readied his free skate costume, Yuuri turns away from it. He has Yuri On Ice down - Eros was the one he had struggled with, and he had _owned_ that today.

Actually.

~

When Victor comes out of the shower, towel around his waist, Yuuri is ready to go into the bathroom, but as they pass, Yuuri grabs Victor’s wrist to stop him. “Uhm. Victor?”

Victor stops as prompted, his eyes finding Yuuri’s. “Yes?”

“Earlier,” Yuuri says, soft, a little insecure, “when you said that, next time, instead - before I interrupted you, what were you going to say?”

Victor chuckles, and steps close, cupping Yuuri’s cheek. The touch is soothing and Yuuri leans into it, but he doesn’t break eye contact. Victor is smiling so softly, and Yuuri wants every one of those smiles to be aimed at him for the rest of both of their lives. “I was going to suggest that next time I help you psych up for your skate, instead of you having to having to do it alone. You looked anxious, pacing today.”

Yuuri pulls away from his hand, gaping. “What - I thought you had notes?”

Victor raises his eyebrows. “Yuuri, your program is perfect. What notes would I give? ‘As a warm up, let me grab your ass instead of Chris’? Although,” he muses, “that’s not a bad one. But your score was the highest it could be. Technical and performance scores were outstanding.”

“I don’t know. You’re the one with the world record on the short program, and that score is higher,” Yuuri mumbles.

“You’ll get there,” Victor says, simple. Like it’s a given that Yuuri will beat his scores at some point.

Yuuri’s heart stops and starts again, and he feels a pressure behind his eyes. God, Victor...Victor believes in him. Yuuri has never told Victor about his dream to meet him on the ice and surpass him, but Victor thinks he can do it anyway. There’s so much Yuuri has to show to the world. He started it today, and he has to finish it tomorrow. He swallows.

Victor leans in and brushes their lips together. “Yuuri,” he murmurs. “None of that. We’ll talk tomorrow. Right now, shower, then sleep. You did _amazing_ today.”

Yuuri nods and murmurs back a thank you before heading into the shower, letting the hot water take his thoughts away. Shower, then sleep. Shower, then sleep.

He doesn’t know exactly how long he’s in the shower, but Victor is already asleep when Yuuri finally emerges, so it must have been long. The aches of the day fully hitting him, legs wobbly, Yuuri dresses in his pajamas slowly and crawls up into bed under the covers. Sleep, he tells himself. Sleep, and then he can worry in the morning. Sleep, and he and Victor can talk.

Sleep evades him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fic since I graduated high school in 2012, and Yuri!!! On Ice as a media and a fandom has inspired me to share. You’re all lovely and I appreciate you so much!


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